For Husbands

Was it because my divorce occurred while I was incarcerated? Or was it because I was in such a season of scriptural saturation? I don’t know why it happened. I only know that somewhere along the way I began viewing the little things that used to annoy me very differently.

Things like her spending habits, incessant house cleaning, lack of urgency. Or how she would breeze into the kitchen while I was cooking and start washing the tools I was still using.

I now see that this wasn’t just my problem. Many of the relationships I’ve witnessed display the same negative traits that I once carried. Chief among them is an overly critical spirit. Repeatedly pointing out insignificant shortcomings. Men talking down to their spouses, seemingly unaware of the damage they’re doing.

Why we do this is a question for someone smarter than me. But that we do it deserves our attention.

We act as if only we know the proper way to accomplish tasks, communicate with others, and accurately interpret the world around us. And we waste no opportunity to prove this to the women we love.

Sure, we justify these actions as our attempt to help them improve. But I wonder if we are in any position to assume that responsibility. I don’t know anybody who is free of flaws.

I fear we are too blinded by the logs in our own eyes to see clearly enough to address the insignificant issues in someone else’s life.

And the damage done by our constant criticism can be enormous. With each repeated correction, we chip away at their sense of self-worth. They begin to question whether they can do anything right. We strip away confidence that may already be fragile. In a culture that constantly tells them, “You are not enough,” we reinforce the message with our endless corrections.

I have to ask: Is any of this eternally significant?

This may be the most welcome change I see in myself since my incarceration. As I look back over my marriage and my critical spirit, I can clearly see how insignificant those things were—the things I repeatedly brought to my wife’s attention. The things I tended to beat her down over. I can now see the impact my words and attitudes had on her self-image.

I would give everything I’ve ever had for the opportunity to ignore those things that I once made such a big deal about. To be able to show her what a wonderful, amazing creature she is. To help her see herself the way God sees her.

Now I find joy in smiling at the little things that once annoyed me. Those are the things that make us different. Rather than trying to smooth out the differences, I allow those rough places to become sandpaper—smoothing my own faults and shortcomings.

It makes for a much happier life.

I find immense joy in serving rather than pointing out flaws. It is strangely fulfilling to deliver the forgotten phone, or to work around the house because I want to help rather than because I’m frustrated.

After all, Jesus came to serve… didn’t He?